


Sketch of a slavegirl

by Romanumeternal



Series: Julia and Marlia [9]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate History, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Ancient Rome, Domestic Fluff, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Non-Sexual Slavery, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23596303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romanumeternal/pseuds/Romanumeternal
Summary: So this is another one which is very old and has been substantially re-written. Part II coming...at some pointWhilst posing as a model for her owner, a slave gets into an unexpectedly deep conversation.
Series: Julia and Marlia [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1107642
Comments: 10
Kudos: 11





	Sketch of a slavegirl

"Hold still, girl" snapped Julia, her pencil scratching on her paper, lying, face down,on the recliner. She cocked her head, staring straight at Marlia, and then returned her attention to the paper; her pencil scratching some more. 

Marlia kept her face still, wishing she'd had the foresight to choose a less uncomfortable position to pose in. Standing, head bowed, with arms extended, holding a fully laden fuitbowl, was surprisingly painful after two or three minutes, let alone five. Her shoulders and arms were starting to ache abominably; and the discomfort in her neck was rapidly turning into actual pain. 

If Julia knew about her discomfort, however, she didn't show it, and likely wouldn't care. Most likely, she thought to herself, the thought simply wouldn't cross her mind.

She swallowed, lightly, as a breeze ruffled her hair slightly. From the balcony, she could see down the street; lined with stone pine trees and dominated by the elegant, High Imperial apartment blocks. Someone, somewhere was playing an old, romantic song - 'No Fatherland Without You', she reckoned, one of those perennial favorites - but other than that it was mostly quiet, save for the remote swish of traffic. 

Julia looked up at her again, then returned her gaze to the paper, frowning. More noises of scratching followed, and Marlia found herself vaguely curious as to what the sketch would look like. Like many well-born girls with few readily obvious talents or skills, Julia was supposedly attending Neapolis Symposia to study what was loosely termed the Lesser Quadrivium- Latin Literature, Arts, Roman History and Philosophy; with the expectation that after four years she would at least have the knowledge and understanding that was expected of any self-respecting patrician woman. So far as Marlia could ascertain, it was in actuality mainly an excuse to make future contacts, network, and possibly find a future husband; the actual studies not, it seemed, a hugely important component of the experience. 

. Still, learning about art had piqued her interest,possibly because she'd read somewhere that it was a skill well born patrician girls should have. Seemingly on an idle whim, that morning she'd ordered Marlia out onto the balcony, told her to pose, and then sat down to draw her. Why a fruit bowl on its own, a plant pot, landscape or whatever wasn't suitable, the maid had no idea; but then her place was to stay still and be drawn, not question her domina.

"You could be a model" smirked Julia, her pencil gliding across the paper. Smirking, Marlia guessed, because both of them knew damn well that of the pair of them, Julia was by far the more attractive of the two. Marlia didn't resent that (in fact, some days she was grateful for her plain looks), but her domina's tireless repetition of the fact could get a bit wearing. It wasn't as if anyone had really argued the fact.

Her eyes glanced up, took on some detail, then returned to the paper. She frowned, very slightly.

"Although you could try and look happier. You're happily serving your superiors some fruit, remember? Pleased to be of service and all that?"

Marlia adjusted her face slightly; so that she was smiling - a little; the demure smile permitted a favored slave who was given the honor of serving their betters. Julia snorted at the expression as she quickly sketched a few more lines. 

"Honestly, aren't slaves meant to be good at faking their emotions? I'd have thought that was a required skill, working in a bar or brothel or club or whatever low-rent hellhole you worked in" she murmured, brightly. Not, Marlia reckoned, expecting much of a reply.

Inwardly, Marlia winced. So far as she was concerned, her past was in the past and should remain there. Julia, on the other hand, thought the whole thing slightly amusing, and could not always resist the urge to needle the maid with it. Perhaps its a little warning she thought to herself. Keep in line or I'll throw you back to where you came from. She dismissed that thought. Julia was not that subtle - or at least, not with Marlia. When Julia was angry, Marlia was lucky if she didn't receive a couple of sharp, stinging slaps, along with some sharp words on the subjects of her lack of morals, laziness, and all round worthlessness, in addition to her luck at having such a forbearing owner. 

"Hmm...that face is better. You now look quietly happy, I think." Quickly, Julia sketched a few more lines onto the paper.

"Thank you, domina."

Julia smiled contentedly. "Well, if I took an unhappy sketch to class and showed it, they'd think I'd beaten you senseless before drawing it. And that, Marls, is really the height of vularity and self-indulgence. Shows an utter lack of breeding or class. And we don't want people to think that, do we?"

"Of course not, domina."

"I mean, take Pollius, brother of Pollia - you know her, right?" said Julia, putting down her pencil. Inwardly Marlia sighed, wishing Julia would hurry up and either finish the drawing, or dismiss her. Her arms were really starting to hurt. But then, when Julia was pleased to make conversation with the woman she owned, it was Marlia's role to appear interested and engaged. Julia was, Marlia knew, one of life's natural talkers - and, in utter fairness, Marlia reckoned, it showed that she was at least thought of as something more than just a tool that talked, perhaps even approaching an actual person. 

Some of the time, anyway. 

"Well, apparantly he once beat a kitchen-boy to near to death, or something, because he'd overcooked his breakfast. But his grandfather was a fishmonger. So I guess you'd pretty much expect that. Or even you. I mean, I bet you didn't meet many high class clients wherever you worked, did you?"

Marlia - just - repressed a shudder at the memory. "No, domina."

"Whilst I hardly ever hurt you. So my theory, as my brother would say, is proved beyond doubt."

Personally, Marlia had some doubts as to whether one's social standing determined how well they'd treat her, but she kept these to herself. There were plebians who treated their slaves like family members, and patricians who treated theirs worse than a dog. Rich citizens with a bloodline stretching back a thousand years, whose human property lived lives many free people might ency, and poor ex-slaves who drove theirs to suicide. 

"Of course Hadrian" said Julia, "would say that theory is rubbish." She paused. You know what he was going on about yesterday?"

Marlia tried to move her neck slightly, to alleviate a growing crick. "No, domina?" 

"Romulus above, you silly girl. How hard can it be for you to hold still?" Julia's voice briefly rose in annoyance, before subsiding. "He was saying that people who killed slaves should be on trial for murder. Murder! Just like for an actual citizen! I mean, I knew he was a bit of an abolitionist, but that's just silly. Honestly I sometimes wonder why I put up with him." She frowned. "What do you reckon, Marlia?"

The slave paused. Relationship advice was not usually something her owner sought from her; and it wasn't something she was paticuarly keen either. She didn't want to unintnetionally insult either Julia or Hadrian - or, even worse, express any opinion whatsoever on Hadrian's abolitionist views. 

"I...I wouldn't know, domina?"

"Don't be ridiculous Marls. You can surely tell whether he's nice or not."

"He does seem nice, domina" said Marlia neutrally, knowing that agreeing with Julia was almost always the safest route. Besides, who was she to criticise a man her owner was in love with?

"Only 'nice'?" teased Julia, her pencil flying over the paper. "Not sure that is enough to be my boyfriend." There was a slight playful teasing edge to Julia's voice now; which always put Marlia in mind of a cat gently caressing a mouse. Amusement at watching Marlia carefully pick her words, anxious not to offend her domina, combined with the disdain of a superior for an inferior. 

"He is always very...considerate, domina."

"Considerate towards slaves? Wow, manly man you make him out to be. Hardly Hercules in human form. Nice and considerate, Marls, is like saying someone has a lovely smile or an interesting personality. Next you'll be saying he has lovely hair!" she scoffed, the pencil moving in short, quick lines. 

Marlia frowned, unsure. Truth be told whilst Hadrian's attraction to Julia was obvious, why Julia reciprocated it, rather than pretending to be annoyed and actually rather flattered whenever a man tried to flirt with her as was usually the case, was an utter mystery to Marlia, who prided herself on generally understanding her domina well. She might appreciate his poetry, maybe, but that didn't seem like enough. And it wasn't as if their interests were similar. Frankly, Hadrian was out of Julia's league intellectually, and Julia out of Hadrian's physically.

Mind you, you are a slave she thought. And lets face it, have you ever been in love with anyone? No. You have no idea how this works. For all you know, sometimes the poets are right and there is a spark between two people, that doesn't take account of brains or beauty or status. Ridiculous as that sounds to an ex-whore. 

She frowned even deeper, trying to suppress that unwelcome thought - you can't afford those sort of feelings; for you its a question only of what can he give you or how much can he hurt you? - and was rewarded by a pencil flying at her forehead. It hit her skull, startling her. Julia rolled her eyes as she picked up another, grinning slightly at her accurate aim. 

"Stop frowning, girl. I'm trying to draw here."

"Apologies, domina."

"Hold bloody still. How hard can that be? And look happy."

"Sorry domina. I was just thinking about what you said."

"'Thinking'. Huh. Didn't know you ever did." Julia said dismissively, as she scratched some more at her paper. "So what did you 'think', girl?" she asked, her voice slightly sarcastic. Still, there was a hint of interest in it; as though despite the lessons of experience and logic Marlia might still suprise her with an actually insightful answer. 

"Just your last question, domina."

"Oh, that. Frankly, girl, being considerate to my property is hardly enough."

"I guess it shows he respects you, domina."

She had intended it to be nothing more than a general, vaguely flattering remark. She knew have conversations with Julia should go. Smile, nod, agree, and say something which allowed Julia to talk some more. Julia's sharp look at her showed that Julia had taken it as rather more than that.

"How do you get from 'he treats a random slavegirl nicely' to 'he loves and respects me'?" Julia sniffed, obviously not overly impressed at Marlia's chain of logic. 

"Well, he respects you too much to try to sleep with me - which I am grateful for, domina. And you know that isn't usually the case. And hurting me would inconvenience you, domina, and show a lack of respect for you."

Julia frowned, obviously unconvinced. 

"Clutching at straws there, Marls. It could just be that he prefers me, for obvious reasons." She gestured at her chest, in case those obvious reasons were, in fact, not so obvious. "Though you are right, I think, about the respect. Hurting you without my permission would...seriously offend me" she said. 

For a moment, Marlia almost fancied there was a slight, protective edge in Julia's voice as she said that; and she wasn't entirely convinced that for Julia, the lack of respect shown by Hadrian in such a case would be the entire reason for her upset. 

Julia frowned, and put the pencil down, taking a sip of lemonade as she did so. Marlia watched her, suddenly aware of how parched her throat was; how desperately she wanted a drink. Not to mention the aches in her muscles. She wondered if Julia had stopped drawing, and wanted her to stop posing, or whether she was just taking a long and, for Marlia, frustrating break.

"I mean, if he won't sleep with you it shows he prefers me always. Which is obvious, if flattering. Most guys will at least try and sleep with a slavegirl if they can, and a lot of my friends are perfectly happy to let them do that on occasion." She made a face of disgust towards the entire male gender. "Especially if they fancy anything unconventional like...well, from behind. Or in the mouth, or anything, which it seems most do for some reason." 

Marlia suppressed a laugh. For a girl who prided herself on enjoying sex and being the object of desire to most men whom she tried to charm, she could be surprisingly innocent regarding some things - as of course, befitted a patrician lady, who was expected to just lie there as her husband planted children inside her. Had she cared to, Marlia could probably have shocked Julia with what otherwise decent citizens liked to do to women who, unlike their wives or girlfriends, were not expected to refuse. 

"But he doesn't" said Julia. "I daresay you might be rather more skilled than myself, Marls, but what man wants a whore when he can have a Patrician - and one who looks like me, at that." She winked at Marlia. "Even if you could show him some things."

"I'm grateful both you and him think like that, domina" said Marlia, ignoring the unpleasantly accurate whore slur, and suppressing another giggle at Julia's careless, almost innocent yet staggering vanity. "And you're right as always, domina. I believe your mother so entranced your father that he never looked at another woman since."

The comparison to her deceased mother delighted Julia, as Marlia knew it would. She smiled a self-satisfied smile; pleased that her slave had just confirmed what she wanted to hear - that no matter what other girls might be able to offer, she had something special to offer Hadrian, something that wouldn't tempt him to stray. 

"Indeed you should be grateful" said Julia, picking up her paper and looking at it sceptically. "Huh. Not good, but not bad either. I might try drawing something else. Stop lazing around and make yourself useful, Marls".

**Author's Note:**

> The 'Quadrivium' is an educational concept that dates back centuries, although what it involves has shifted over time. 
> 
> Nowadays, its considered to be the basic knowledge considered to be needed to be seen as an educated, well rounded citizen. The 'High Quadrivium' consists of Latin Literature, Rhetoric, Political Philosophy and World History, whilst the 'Lesser Quadrivium' consists of Latin Literature, Philosophy, Art and Roman History. There is only one widely recognised 'Trivium', which is considered to be more demanding - Mathematics, Natural Philosophy and Political Philosophy. 
> 
> Generally, most students at a symposia will take a Quadrivium or Trivium, with an extra subject - e.g. Law, Life Sciences, Economics, etc. Attaining a Quadrivium or Trivium is considered to be a fairly basic, but important, requirement. Taking only a Quadrivium is considered the bare minimum to be considered 'educated' to any reasonable level.


End file.
